Starless sky
by BookwurmGrl
Summary: Haunted by memories of her mother's brutal murder, Bella Swan, a true crime writer determined to bring killers to justice, joins forces with PI Edward Cullen,the ex-FBI agent, to catch a twisted killer.TEMPORARY HIATUS/BEING RE-WRITTEN
1. The Beginning

I promised myself I wouldn't do this but I really want to get this idea out. I wasn't going to post this until I finished my other story but oh well. ;D

Ok, so I basically took the plot from _Angel Fire _by Lisa Miscione but replaced her characters with the Twilight characters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights belong to Stephanie Meyer and Lisa Miscione. I also took the summary from the book Angel Fire by Lisa Miscione and posted it as the summary for the story.

* * *

Not for the first time, I wished I lived anywhere else except here, in this small, cold town. I don't want to come off as a winy fifteen year old teenager, but I seriously think I have good enough reasons to complain. For one thing, Forks is practically in the middle of nowhere. Worst of all, P.E is mandatory. All. Four. Years.

Aren't those two reasons enough to hate my high school already? The small suburban town didn't have much of a choice range in the school department though, so I had to make due with what I could get.

I sighed and looked both ways before crossing the street. I had a couple of blocks left to go 'till I reached home and it was getting chilly. Hopefully it wouldn't start raining before I got home. I really wasn't in the mood to turn up looking like a half drowned cat.

My black jacket didn't seem to want to do its job. I hugged myself and hurried up my pace, hoping to warm up at least a little from the exercise.

Its funny how whenever I find myself walking home, I start thinking about my father. A complete stranger.

His name is Charlie Swan, and he abandoned us before I was even born. That was all I knew about him, and honestly how much can his name tell me? Not much. Nada. Zero.

I doubted he would live in some place as dreary as Forks. Maybe a big city? Either way, I wondered a lot about him.

Since I was often told I was the splitting image of my mom, there wasn't a very good chance that I looked like him; I had to be at least like him in character.

In that sense, my mother and I where as different as black and white, polka dots to stripes, you name it. If she wanted Italian, then I was in the mood for Burger King and visa versa. It's just the way life works. Strange.

Does he even care he has a daughter? Does he even know? My mother says he knows. I hope he's happy wherever he is.

Every so often, I imagined that a man would show up claiming to be my father. He'd be wearing a nice suit and be driving a flashy new car.

I always imagined him as a big shot. He had to have been offered something incredibly wonderful to want leave us right? To reject his family. To want leave me, a baby whom he hadn't even set his eyes on.

Then again, I'm not very interesting. I'm smart and I like to write for the school newspaper but that's about it. I'm not beautiful or incredible in any way whatsoever.

Wondering about him was the only thing I could do. Renée wasn't any help in making things clear when it came to this subject.

She would flinch whenever I mentioned him, so I'd learned to steer clear on the topic. I doubted there was a chance I'd ever meet him anyway. Charlie Swan would always be nothing more than insubstantial smoke that had never really been there in the first place.

I sighed and hitched my brown and pink Jansport backpack higher on my shoulder.

Pink. Could my mom have picked a girlier color? Like I said, we were different. It's not that I have anything against pink or that I'm a tomboy, but it isn't my first choice in the color scheme.

I wasn't one of the preppy girls at school. I wasn't even that popular to tell the truth. At school, the few close friends I had lived too far away from me. Angela was halfway across town so there's no way I could walk home or spend a lot of time with her. It really didn't matter though. I was used to, even liked, being alone.

Finally I spotted my nice, light blue house. Thanks to my overactive imagination, the walk home had been relatively short today. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of it.

As soon as my feet hit the end of the driveway, I felt something was terribly wrong. I saw our blue Chevy and suddenly felt like I'd eaten lead for lunch. The car's door was open and my mother's brown purse sat in the passenger seat.

Renee may be distracted, but she is never unpredictable. Her habits are precise and right on the mark every single day. She would never leave the car unlocked or much less, leave the door open. Even living in this safe small town, she was paranoid. My mother always said that no place was safe, and therefore took the necessary measures to make herself feel secure.

The ugly brown purse was like a second child for her as well. She carried the thing everywhere. God only knows how much crap she stored inside. I never saw the point in taking a purse since I've always traveled light.

I was trying not to imagine the worst and calm down. Maybe there was an emergency and she left the purse there to help someone. Maybe the phone rang. There are millions of perfectly reasonable explanations, so why is it I don't swallow any of them up? They all sound hollow when I chant them in my head. I went over and picked up the purse. Then I moved toward the front door. I stare at it for a second because it's open.

"If you ever come home with door open or a broken window, don't go inside. Call the neighbors and police and call me at work."

I remember that conversation clearly. We were in the kitchen and I was hoping she'd stop because I had a major headache. I remember my answer. "Ok mom" I had said. She'd scowled and then launched into another lecture about how I wasn't listening to her.

I have no idea what to do now so I just stand here. The smart thing to do is follow her instructions. I should go, bang on our neighbor's door, and then have them call the police.

I debate what to do next for about ten seconds and make my choice. I decide to push the door open and walk inside. Stupid of me, but I can't help it.

I open the door and leave it open as wide as it can go. I've read way to many horror novels that all usually end with the victim being trapped and having no way out. I let my mom's purse and my backpack slide deftly to the floor and go inside.

The parlor is completely empty and there are no lights on. The stereo is blaring and its creepy to hear some wails of some weird rock band my mother always listens to. When I turn it off, there's complete silence.

The adrenaline in my body from all this suspense demands me to move so I walk from room to room. I find nothing downstairs.

I get to our stair way and grab on to the rail as I climb to reach my mother's room. Its pitch black up here so my hand blindly caresses the wall. Finally I find the switch and light floods the room.

The dark blue curtains are drawn and it's a mess. There is stuff thrown all over the place. Our nice beige carpet is smeared in red.

I hardly notice any of this however, because my mother is on the bed. She's covered in blood. She isn't moving and her eyes stare unseeingly at the wall.

Dead. The word flits trough my mind and I'm no longer connected to my body. I run to her. I begin to shake her. I beg her to wake up.

Nothing.

I let go and scurry as far back as I possibly can. Finally I back all the way into the wall. My hands are covered in blood. I feel nothing more than shock.

My shaky legs bend at the knees, but I can't feel anything. I can't even cry. I'm numb and my legs can no longer support me. I begin to slide to the floor with my back against the wall.

My mother finally does something. She looks up at me and I can see the extent of the damage on her neck. She focuses on me, but I can't speak. I'm too horrified.

"Mom," I manage, "let me help you."

"No dear," she says, "let _me_ help _you."_

Someone screams. A piece high pitched noise that only terrifies me even more. It isn't until I open my eyes that I realize who it is.

Me.

I have never been happier to wake up.

I sit bolt up right in my bed with my heart hammering as though I just ran a marathon. Disoriented for a couple of seconds, I begin a quick scan of the room, but find nothing. My forehead feels sticky, a good indication that I'm drenched in sweat. Finally, I groan and plop my head back onto my pillow even though I know there's no way I'm going back to sleep anytime soon. "It was only a nightmare," I tell myself but it doesn't help much. It's a nightmare but that doesn't change the fact that it's real. It doesn't change the fact that my mother's been dead for fifteen years.

Reluctantly I pull the covers back and drag myself out of bed. The bright red numbers on my alarm clock tell me it's three in the morning. I grab a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt and walk over to my bathroom.

I look the mirror and a pale face, surrounded by long mahogany colored hair, stares back at me. My brown eyes have black shadows beneath them and I've lost a lot of weight.

I've never been on the heavy side but I'm beginning to look unhealthy. I frown.

"Great, when Edward sees me again he'll think I've turned anorexic." I stop my train of thought. If I start thinking about him, I won't be able to stop myself from calling him in New York. That'd be a nice conversation. "Edward can you come all the way to Santa Fe? I had a nightmare and, by the way, I'm sorry it's been a month since I basically fell of the face of the Earth."

He'll be angry since he doesn't know anything besides the fact I'm ok. He's got no idea where I am because I haven't spoken to him since I packed and left my apartment in New York to my house in New Mexico.

I stuff my feet into some sneakers and grab my keys. I'm going running. If I stay in here a moment longer I'm going to start remembering things I don't want to remember. I chuckle darkly, finding it amusing that I seem to need to outrun my own memories.

* * *

So, what do you think? Read and review!


	2. Remembering

Hey guys! Sorry it took so long! I just wasn't sure about which direction I wanted to go with this because there were about a million ways I could have written chapter two. I'm still experimenting with this and I decided to explain more things about Bella before I go into other stuff. Just bear with me ok? Just a heads up, there will be several flashbacks in the first few chapters. Ill try to update Next weekend!!! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Angel Fire. The rights belong to Stephenie Meyer and Lisa Miscione.

* * *

The sun is barely coming out, and here I am on my morning jog. I sometimes curse myself for being such a morning person, but then it's too hard to just remain in bed and sleep away the day because I know that there are people out there who never rest. Their goal is to hurt others as much as they can, and you could say my goal has become to prevent this.

When I was a child, I always wondered why people were afraid of the dark. I don't remember ever having that fear and you'd think that after everything I've seen, I would have to have a nightlight permanently installed in every room in my house.

People are afraid of the dark because it's the unknown, but I've been there and back. There's nothing that surprises me anymore when dealing with darkness, so why should I be afraid of it?

Even though the sun illuminates the town in an incandescent glow, I can't pay much attention to the scenery. My mind is busy replaying the horrific events of my nightmare. For once, I'm glad for the day's warmth and light because I need my demons and shadows to leave and to disappear with the night. Preferably, to never come back; fat chance.

I sigh and push a stray lock of my hair out of the way. Every year, the weeks preceding the anniversary of my mother's death make me restless. I'm surprised I have any nails by the time the month is over since I have the bad habit to bite them when I'm nervous or stressed out. When ever I begin to think about it, my mother's expressionless face swims in front of my eyes.

I remember once I came out of the shock and managed to crawl slowly down the stairs, the adrenaline kicked in. As soon as I crossed the thresh hold, I was running for all I had to my neighbor's house. I pounded on the door like a maniac and since it happened to be my lucky day, no one answered. Finally, some one else on the street had mercy and called the police on me.

Shaking my head, I try to forget the nightmare and concentrate on keeping a steady rhythm. One foot in front of the other, a huff or two, and one block gone under my old, white tennis shoes later, I allow myself to pause take a break. I have no idea how much I've ran so far.

I realize that it's a pretty impressive distance when I look up and come across the old church. It takes me aback that my feet transported me here while my mind cruised in and out of la la land since I never come anywhere around this part of town.

Being a small town, there's not much room or money left for renovations. This means that the ancient structure is very close to pummeling down. The white paint is chipped and the wood looks old even from a distance.

I debate going in, but my legs don't seem to want to cooperate. They spin as if some magical force had suddenly gotten hold on me and I start heading back to the house.

I did not deny the possibility of a god or a godlike force, but organized religion was completely out of the question. I'd never be able to keep up with going to church because for one thing, my job would prevent it. I travelled a lot, trying to find interresting cases to write about. For another thing, it'd be too painful.

I'd remember going to church with my mother as a child. She always had our identical mahogany hair done up tight and completely flawless. We usually wore our Sunday best only because it gave my mother a reason to play dress up. I rolled my eyes and smiled fondly at the memory.

Who knew those grueling hours of sitting in front of a mirror while my hair was almost ripped out with every brush would make me smile? Sometimes my mother reminded me a lot of Alice in the clothes and girly stuff department.

Those good times stopped though. I hit my teenage years and began to drift farther and farther away from my mom. I stopped going to church with her when I began to see it as an obligation. The usual rebellious teen sprung forward and my mother did nothing to stop it.

She would always just shake her head at me in a small sad gesture that plainly said, "I'm not doing anything about it". She never chastised or argued and that hurt me a lot. I felt like she didn't care enough about me to at least try to keep a friendship with me.

After her death, I tried returning to church hoping that I'd find some kind of solace.

Instead, it just seemed to make it worse. Stuck in my personal kind of hell, I decided to drown in school; later in work.

Edward worried constantly I'd turn into some sort of zombie. He was the only one who'd seen what a mess I'd been since he first saw me sitting on my porch that dreadful began to launch his evil pixy of a sister on me. When there was nothing left to look forward to, arguing with Alice over my wardrobe was the only thing that made my day.

Alice is two years older than me. I'd moved away from Forks to live with my grandparents, who just happened to live near New York. I didn't know this was where Edward lived.

We ran into each other once and since then, he would drop in from time to time just to see how I was doing. This meant a lot to me considering his house was an hour long drive away. We became best friends.

My grandmother always commented on how handsome he was with his emerald green eyes and bronze hair, and I'd just blush like my usual self. And just like an annoying older brother, he teased me about it later.

Anyway, he took me to meet his family and that's when I met Alice. They were great people and soon enough, became like family to me also. At first I stayed distanced from Esme, Edward's mother. I found it a little painful to be near her. She began to get close to me though. She told me how she'd lost her baby. I felt a bond knowing she knew how it felt to loose someone you love.

Emmet, a big muscly bear of a guy, was Edward's older brother. I always wondered back then why it felt so different to my relationship with Edward. I seemed to care about them differently even though i thought of them as older sibling. I didn't realize why until I was older. Carlisle, Edward's father, was a doctor. He was friendly and I saw the father I'd never had in him. Finally there was Alice. She'd made the biggest impression on me that day. Immediately after Edward had introduced me she'd come bouncing over and hugged me.I remember thinking that the thin girl with short, inky black, spiky hair had had way too many cups of caffeine.

When I went to college, Edward would give my grandfather a report of how I was doing because we only lived a couple of minutes away. He played the role of rescuer/protector while I was so young. Always being overly protective when it came to boys.

I laughed aloud and then felt a slight pang for thinking of my friends, family, back home. I knew Alice was back in New York with Jasper, her husband. He and I became close friends as well. Jasper had been in the army and then worked in the FBI with Edward. That's how he met Alice.

I groaned already knowing she would be upset with me as usual when I finally decided to call. I had five messages on my cell phone from her. She never understood why I had to get away. She didn't understand why me and Edward wouldn't just get together and get all the drama over with.

Emmet also went into the FBI, but the three of them quit after a couple of years. After that, I began working with them when they opened up the Cullen/Hale Investigative bugged me relentlessly about turning it into the Cullen/Hale/Swan Agency. I didn't let them though.

I had no trouble deciding my major. I'd always wanted to go into something like journalism or any form of writing and after solving cases, I wrote about them.

My mother always said I was a dreamer and a great story teller. I loved concocting tales and most of all, I loved to read. Even after the fairytale phase every child goes through, I'd devour any book that came across my path. Usually this is when we begin to loose interest in books and lean toward other things.

I don't know if my mother meant this as a compliment or if she saw it as an aggravation. I never got around to asking her, but most days I think it was the latter.

I think deep down she would have liked me to be more "down to earth" because this way, your feet are solidly planted on the ground and it doesn't hurt as much when you fall as opposed to falling from a really high place. I could always tell she'd fallen hard when she fell for my dad and that some part of her was irrevocably broken when they split up.

Sometimes she told me I was too observant for my own good. This was some what of a surprise but after she pointed it out I began to see it myself. Most of the books I read were mysteries, so even now I ask myself: how could it take me that long to see something so simple when I'm supposed to be extremely observant? I remember the day I realized it as though it was yesterday.

_Flashback_

_I was thirteen and sick when I noticed two cars parked in our neighbors' driveway. One was our neighbor's car but the other seemed unfamiliar. I felt something was horribly wrong with this picture. _

_Sometimes I watched from the window how the young couple would get along. I didn't mean to, but the yelling made me curious in the beginning. After a while I began to get bored of this everyday occurrence. _

_The woman was friends with my mother. I think her name was Leah. She was pretty in an exotic kind of way, with long lashes and jet black hair; she had a really bad temper. _

_The man's name was Sam and he seemed friendly enough. I turned to my mother, who was busy making dinner._

"_What do think is going on over there mom?"_

_She turned and scowled, "It's none of our business." She then put her hand against my forehead, checking my fever. "I thought u were sick? Go back to bed." _

_I was certain that the man was having an affair._

"_You have to tell her," I tried, knowing it wouldn't be of any use. _

"_Tell her what?" she said not paying a lot of attention to me. "…it doesn't mean he's having an affair. They're selling their house. For all we know, it could be the real estate agent." I tried not to roll my eyes. Sometimes we women can be so blind._

"_Tell her a strange woman left her house."_

"_No, I'm not causing trouble," she seemed to have heard enough. "Shame on you Bella. You're thirteen. You have no idea how complicated relationships are. They need to work out their problems without meddling neighbors."_

_Around a week later, Leah came to my mother. She was crying and telling her how she'd found some other woman's earrings in her room. My mother saw me listening from the top of the stair case and shrugged as though saying "You were right, too bad."_

_End of flashback._

After that, I began to see a mystery every where I looked. I knew where to find them and how to solve them and therefore began to write about that.

An object out of place, a furtive gesture, or something left unsaid always came to hidden truths.

I opened my gate with the code and went inside to take a nice warm shower. I'd been on vacation for too long and I needed to get back to work. I had a feeling that here, in SantaFe, something was waiting for me to discover. I grinned, a mystery was the best cure to take my mind of things.

* * *

READ & REVIEW!!! They encourage me !!! and make me hurry up writing :D

Next chapter will be in Edward's point of view!


	3. The first time I saw her

**Hello again. I know that some of this will be confusing to read since in the flashback she's talking to Edward because she's retelling the story but she's also saying what she was saying to her mother at the time. Even that last sentence sounds confusing ****L Either way, if you have any questions feel free to ask.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!!! It all belongs to Lisa Miscione and Stephenie Meyer.**

* * *

The offices felt desolate and quiet, with only the low hum of the vacuum in the far hallway. I furiously hoped that it was the old woman cleaning and not Lauren. That blonde maid was seriously getting on my nerves. She always came into my office with the sorry excuse of cleaning it and then tried to seduce me.

Her trade mark "Hello Mr. Cullen" was always purred in what was supposed to be a sexy voice, but sounded more like a bad smoker's voice. I, as usual, just looked up and greeted her with an annoyed "hello Lauren, are you finished cleaning yet?"

Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself of unpleasant memories. I just didn't understand how some people can't take a hint. Emmet, of course, found it incredibly funny. Jasper sometimes tried to help by using some excuse to get me out of the office when she was there, but I could tell he was also amused by this.

You'd think after the tenth time she would have understood me when I said I wanted nothing to do with her.

I glanced cautiously at the door when I heard footsteps accompanied with the rolling cleaning supply cart. The doorknob turned and I could only wait in suspense. It reminded me of horror movies. Thankfully, fate was smiling on me and in came a small stubby old woman with white hair. I relaxed and grinned at her.

"Hello Mr. Cullen," she greeted me politely.

"Hello, would you like me to leave so you can finish up?"

"Oh no, the office has already been cleaned I just need to throw out the trash."

"Very well, thank you," I replied.

She grabbed the trash and exited with a small wave.

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was going to strike eleven. Jasper and Emmet had deserted me long ago and gone home to their wives. I didn't blame them though.

After another day of grueling cases with murder, kidnappings and arson, I'd like to run home to my significant other and just try to forget everything.

"If only my significant other wasn't M.I.A," I sighed.

I placed the file I was reading on the desk and then rubbed my eyes tiredly. Not for the first time today, her memory came back to haunt me. I glanced at the black phone and willed her to call with sheer mind power.

It didn't work.

Spinning my chair around, I let the New York sky line glow before my eyes. Whether it was day or night, this city was always glowing. A million squares of light reached into a starless sky.

_A million lies, a million heartbreaks, a million crimes to match_, I thought.

I should be used to this after fifteen years of the same routine. She always left without any explanation or clue about her destination. I knew it was no use in wondering, but I still did.

I wondered where she was and why she hadn't called yet. The first couple of times I'd tried to find her, I'd come up completely blank.

This was saying something since I was supposed to be one of the top private investigators of all time. Finally, I just realized I had to wait until she came back to me when she was ready. She wasn't going to be found when she didn't want to be found.

I glanced at the window and caught sight of my reflection. My untidy hair hung in a crazy array, in all directions possible. My face looked weathered and my eyes looked tired. I felt older than my thirty seven years. Unconsciously, I reached up to rub my right shoulder.

I remember the first time I saw Isabella Swan, fifteen years ago. At twenty two, I'd been working on my first case in the FBI; being a rookie, they'd sent me to the edge of the world by giving me the assignment no one else wanted.

I came to the scene of the crime and saw a young fifteen year old girl sitting on the porch. She was staring blankly at nothing. A female cop seemed to be trying to speak with her, but nothing made the girl react. I finally strode over to her. I didn't know why but I felt connected to this girl. I felt the need to help her somehow.

"I got it from here," she looked up at me when I spoke to the officer, who sent me a grateful glace before walking away.

I kneeled to eye level and then said, "Isabella, I promise I will do everything in my power to find who did this to your mother, but I need you to help me ok?"

She stared at me and I was able to see her turmoil in her deep brown eyes. It seemed as though she was gauging the weight of my promise. Finally, she nodded and I smiled at her.

"Bella," she said in a slightly hoarse voice.

I frowned slightly, not understanding her.

"What?" I asked confused

"My name is Bella," she repeated clearly.

Understanding took place and I gave her a grin, "Nice to meet you Bella. My name is Edward Cullen." I reached out my hand and helped her stand.

Renee had been one of the thirteen women who had been killed in the Seattle area in the span of three years. The killer always made sure to leave the victim so that the children would find them once they arrived home. All the victims just happened to be single, working mothers with at least, one teenage child.

No one wanted this case because no one wanted to work with Harry Clearwater, a twenty five year old veteran who was foul, stinky and just plain rude. Half the time he reeked of alcohol, fast food, and failed relationships.

Bottom line, he was the most unpleasant, bitter man I'd ever met.

Every lead he'd had in three years, had turned cold in his hands. Being his last case before retirement, he didn't want to go with a loosing streak on his record.

I grinned, remembering the way the old man had taught me everything I knew now while trying not to fall over from intoxication. He might have been annoying and unsociable, but the man was a genius investigator.

We never would have found the killer without Bella's eye for detail and active imagination.

"Do you know of anyone who could have done this?" I'd watched Harry ask Bella with surprising tact.

She had looked straight at him and given him a piece of paper. He read it and asked her what it was.

"It's the plate number of a man who's been following us," she said. "I'm sure he killed my mom."

I didn't see how anyone could doubt the determination they saw in her, especially after telling us their encounter with the murderer.

Mother and daughter had been at the local super market when they noticed James. It had only been a couple of days before the murder. Not in the mood for her daughter's fantasizes, Renee pushed him aside from her mind without a second thought; Bella had been afraid. She'd noticed the man before. This was in fact because he had been watching them for months.

Another memory came to me. This time me and Bella were in her apartment and she was telling me the story, not like she'd told it to the police. It was more detailed in a way only a writer can be.

_I was helping Renee load the truck with the groceries when I felt a slight prickling at the back of my neck. When I turned, I saw him. Her eyes seemed far away, reliving that day._

_He was leaning against the car, hands in his pockets and staring straight at us. She looked at me and smiled sadly. My mother was unperturbed by his ogling._

"_Bella pass me the rest of the bags," she told me impatiently. _

"_Mom look at that man," I remember whispering discreetly while complying with my mother's request. _

_My mother looked up confused as to what I was going on about this time. She finally spotted the pale man. _

"_He had long light brown hair that was picked up in a ponytail. Not unattractive, I scowled at her and she grinned at me, but certainly something was off." The grin vanished as quickly as it had come. _

"_He seemed creepy," she said before going on with her tale. I squished her hand in mine in comfort. _

"_Maybe talking about it will help," I told her. She rolled her eyes. _

"_Now you're a psychiatrist Edward Cullen?" I laughed then turned serious. "Keep going," I encouraged. Bella took a deep breath._

_My mother just shook her head at me and finished packing up the groceries. We both got in the car quietly and I was surprised to find my mom trying to hurry up. She gave an uneasy glance at the rear view mirror and started the car._

_The stranger also moved into his vehicle and sped off behind us._

"_Mom, I'm telling you I've seen this guy before, and now he's following us." _

"_For Christ sake, he's not following us." she declared but I could tell I was making her nervous. _

"_He was standing in lot watching us, and when we pulled away he pulled out after us," I told her firmly. My mother glanced in rearview mirror again. _

"_My mother looked at me. As much as I annoyed her with my imagination she could tell that I was serious about this. I tried to relax. The only accomplishment I was getting was making my mother nervous. I'd be my fault if we got in a crash."_

_I'd seen the man at the lot before. He seemed to be everywhere and for a while I thought I was imagining him. I thought he was strange but was probably some pervert leering at us. _

_Suddenly our car decided to make a right turn without signaling and the red car went driving by without slowing. _

"_Wow mom you lost him," I said dramatically. We both laughed. Her voice was now latched with sadness and I was mentally hitting myself for making her tell me the story. _

_My mother had tried to pull some secret agent trick by loosing the car. As it passed by, I tried to memorize the plate number. Quickly taking out my blue eyeliner, I wrote it down. _

"_I got the plate number," I told my mom pulling the cap back on. _

_She gave me a smile from her peripheral view._

"_Good for you," she said for once, playing along with me._

Bella also noticed her mother's favorite earrings were missing. Two small garnet studs that she never seemed to see anywhere except on her mothers ears. The police didn't think much of it at the time, and attributed it to her wanting to find the culprit so bad, she was willing to tell them what her mother had had for breakfast a week ago.

We followed the address from the plates and came to the home of James Mathews. James was a free lance engineering consultant in Seattle. We arrived to

raid his home when he was watching TV only to find thirteen photos in an album and one piece of jewelry from each of his victims. The latter included a pair of garnet stones. "She's a natural detective," Harry admitted unwillingly to me later.

Bella identified James in a line up a week later. After pointing to him, she went back to Harry's office. The case closed when he was found guilty and he was given a life sentence in prison, along with a number for the line on the electric chair.

I remember finding her sobbing on the floor and trying to comfort her.

Bella had and odd strength and maturity for an adolescent. Now, she was 30 and an award winning author, journalist, and investigative consultant with the Cullen/Hale firm.

After ten years, in the FBI, I quit and started the firm. Over a hundred people are now employed by me, Emmet and Jasper .Usually we're called in by the big shot FBI guys and the police when leads go cold.

Not to my surprise, the case that really sent our popularity sky high was one that Bella helped us solve. It was the case of the cheerleader murders. Couple of cheerleaders had been kidnapped. All of them were beautiful, popular and known throughout the school. We were running out of clues, so I called Bella in. Immediately she was able to get more information by speaking with individual students. It turned out the cheerleaders were not well liked.

It basically went like this: evil popular girls get unpopular girl to think they like her. Evil popular girls are mean to unpopular girl and play a prank on her. Evil unpopular girl's mother kills evil popular girls.

It was our first formal case together, and her book on this case made our agency famous. Critics accuse her of being cold hearted for reporting things straight out but they don't know that her motivation is the killer's motive. She fights to understand why people are cruel and selfish.

I look back at the clock and am surprised to find it 1:38 A.M. standing; I stretch and grab my coat. I leave my office and begin to walk to my apartment in silence with one final look at the phone.

* * *

READ AND REVIEW!!!


End file.
